


Work Day

by PineTrain



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Drunken Kissing, F/M, Making Love, Porn Watching, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 23:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16185320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineTrain/pseuds/PineTrain
Summary: "Sick Day" is probably a better title, but that's how I posted it. Also, sorry but tags are referencing what happens before and after the story, hence the teen rating





	Work Day

**Author's Note:**

> "Sick Day" is probably a better title, but that's how I posted it. Also, sorry but tags are referencing what happens before and after the story, hence the teen rating

Consciousness fades in quickly. His eyes open to dim blue light emanating from the shaded window. They quickly close as even that seems too strong for them now. Jumbled thoughts arrange themselves with practiced care and one in particular shoots to the forefront.

It’s a workday.

The second questions why the first sensation he experienced was sight, rather than sound. He flails his hand around near his head and torso, but while it finds soft things including his pillow and blankets, it does not find the hard case of his phone. A muddled panic hits him, confused at why the device isn’t located where it should be and he rolls over to flail on the other side.

There he does find something hard, though larger than a phone. A game device, he instinctively realizes, and he doesn’t own one. He doesn’t focus on that, though, instead remembering that modern ones have clocks in them. His current fear is that his phone died and the alarm didn’t go off; all he needs is the time.

8:09

He blinks at the screen and presses a hand to his forehead as he closes the device. Fumbling out of the bed, he groans inwardly, but is thankful his body is trained enough to wake up without it being too late to prepare for work. He’ll need to hurry, but he’s had to before.

Returning from his morning shower, he’s rubbing his hair with a towel when his bag catches his eye. The floor’s something of a mess, as it always is, and it had blended in with the random objects around it. He would have searched for it soon enough, but now that he’s spotted it, he immediately heads to pick it up. Rummaging around inside, he pulls out a simple black rectangle. Regarding it with a frown for a second, he presses the button on the front.

7:19

Staring at the screen, he waits for the number to change to 20. A quiet song begins, gradually growing louder. Rolling his eyes, he dismisses the alarm and turns off the phone, dropping it back in the bag. He feels stupid for leaving it in there, something he’s not normally in the habit of doing, and also for trusting a game device that apparently doesn’t account for daylight savings. He looks at the device, still on the bed, then to what lays near it and understands why he forgot to take out his phone like he normally does.

Glancing down at his naked body, he decides he should probably dress himself before his sister wakes up. He takes a second to smack his face as he realizes one of the soft things he’d touched while groping around was her breast. Fortunately she wouldn’t know that accident had happened. He senses scummy thoughts trying to weedle into his mind, but he needs to get ready for work.

Checking his dresser, he finds no underwear, but grabs a pair of clean socks. He can find the former item of clothing in a pile by his closet. With a sigh he walks to the wall and plugs in the iron sitting on the floor dutifully next to its board. Rummaging through the pile of used clothes, he glances up at the relatively empty hangers in his closet. There’s pants, but no shirts.

Those are in another pile a short distance away. Clean, but unfolded and unhung. In other words, wrinkled. He’d made specifically sure to buy a quick heating iron for that reason and he hears a puff of steam as he snatches a shirt from its tangled compatriots. One day he’ll get a handle on properly putting away his clothes, but for now he would have to do this quick.

“Nnngg,” she mumbles, her hand brushing around the sheets of the bed. He’s glad he just pulled on his boxers. “Dipper…?”

“Mhrga,” he utters, his tongue surprisingly thick in a mouth he’s just noticing is dry. “Morning,” he corrects after working some saliva around.

He hears her sit up as he irons the shirt. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“Work today,” he answers, examining the remaining wrinkles and deciding it’s good enough.

“You aren’t staying with me?”

“Well, it’s work,” he says, putting on the shirt and buttoning it up.

“But we had sex last night!”

He freezes on the last button and looks at her. She’s topless, sure enough, and he mentally smacks his face again at the fact he somehow didn’t notice a lack of impeding fabric when he’d touched it. He’s staring at her chest now, and when he forces his eyes up to hers, she plants her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow.

“We- we what? S-sex?”

Her expression crumbles into a grin and she laughs loudly. “‘S-sex?’” she imitates, waving her hands in dramatic circles. “You should see your face. No, we didn’t have sex, but we did make out a whole bunch. And, uh, got a bit handsy.” She gestures at her naked torso.

Made out? Got handsy? He finishes his button and robotically retrieves a set of pants and starts putting them on. Memories are beginning to come back. His sister arriving to visit him, a fun time hanging out, her revealing a handle of vodka she brought, a slow descent into debauchery.

“Are you seriously going to work, Dipper?”

“I, uh,” he mutters, noticing he’s in the middle of putting his belt on. “It’s, uh, work…”

His mind is frizzing out as last night pieces back together, but his body is obedient to its training. He glances at her to see she’s looking annoyed. She crosses her arms and pops her eyebrows in a “Really?!” gesture.

“W-work…” he mumbles ineffectually.

“Oh my gosh, Dipper. Frick’s sake!” she exclaims, rolling her eyes. “Call in sick, you doofus!”

“But I’m not sick?”

She hops off the bed and marches up to him. “Phone!” she demands, holding out her hand.

“It’s in my, um, bag.”

She finds the bag and pulls it out, swiftly unlocking it and tapping her way through his contacts. He’s not surprised she knows her way around it, even though its new. He’d shown it to her last night, let her hold on to it longer than he should’ve, given her time to check his search history on the internet, see what porn he’d looked up on it. Brunettes of a particular appearance, one she swiftly recognized.

“Here!” she says, holding the phone to his ear. It rings a few times.

“Heeey, Dipper, what’s up?” his boss asks.

“I am sick,” he says mechanically.

“Sorry to hear that! Rest up, man! Oh, and just fill out the paperwork tomorrow for me to sign. Feel better!” His boss hangs up immediately, efficient as always.

“We made out?” he asks quietly.

“And more! But, yup, we made out,” his sister quips, chucking the phone over her shoulder. It slaps the wall, then thuds the ground.

“We shouldn’t have done that.”

“But we did. What’s done is done,” she says nonchalantly as she sits on the bed, leaning back on her hands, her front fully exposed.

“Mabel, this is serious!”

“What, do you regret it? Cuz I don’t.”

“Of course I- wha- you don’t?!”

“Nope,” she shrugs, cocking her head with a smile. “I’m surprised you do, though. That little video I made was pretty recent on your history.”

“Little? You made a porn video, Mabel! How’s that little?”

She rolls her eyes again. “Yeah, I masturbated in front of a camera, then sold it, so? It’s not like I was doing bukkake. Besides, why were you watching it?”

“I… well…”

They’d run almost an identical discussion last night. The main differences being that it’d been a lot more playful, it wasn’t after they kissed, and it was before he took her top off. The similarity, coupled with her smirk, makes it easy to predict her next question before she asks it.

“Are you jealous?”

“N-no. You should put a shirt on,” he says defiantly. He glances around for it, not quite remembering exactly when he took it off her. He also reflects on how absentmindedly he’d come back into the room naked after his shower.

“Just iron one of yours for me,” she says casually. “It’ll be nice and toasty and yours.”

“Mabel…” he grumbles, glaring at her for a split second before turning away and doing just what she asked. He doesn’t have time to search for her shirt, so he might as well.

He grabs another shirt from the clean, but wrinkled, pile and tosses it to the ironing board. Crouching beside it, he goes to work. After a few seconds, her arms wrap around him and her chest presses his back.

“I just made it for fun. I didn’t think it’d bother you if you found out. Not like this, at least. I could’ve just made it for you if I knew.”

“M-mabel, what the hell are you talking about? You’re my sister. I didn’t want to see you masturbate.”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she rubs her chest back and forth against him. He grimaces, staring at the shirt he’s ironing and trying not to freeze up lest it becomes a bit too toasty.

“I kissed you because I was drunk. It was a mistake,” he says sternly.

“Well, yeah it was a mistake, duh. I made the same mistake, but I don’t regret it. And if you really do regret it, were you drunk when you looked up my video?”

“I stumbled on it accidentally. I wasn’t looking for it.”

“Yeah, you weren’t,” she says sarcastically. “You were looking for ‘long hair brunette small boobs masturbate glitter tattoo stars shooting’.”

He flinches at how perfectly she remembers the search terms, each one added in awkward succession as he struggled to narrow the results down. Last night she’d laughed at how obvious it was when his recent searches on the porn site cascaded down with the same, ever longer input. He’d laughed too, his fingers already weaseling under her shirt hem as he held her from behind.

“Come on, Dipper, I liked it. What’s to regret?”

“We shouldn’t have kissed. Siblings don’t do that.”

“Well, I liked that, too. But I meant about you finding my video,” she says, her breath brushing his ear.

He shudders, involuntarily wishing she’d only made that video for him as she had offered. He was jealous that it was out there for anyone to see, but he shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t be offering that sort of thing at all, but she was.

“What’s the big deal? It was just some kissing and feeling each other up. We didn’t actually have sex,” she continues.

“Make love,” he mutters, correcting her.

“What?”

His eyes shoot open and his hands fly to his mouth in effort to stop what’s too late to stop, but they don’t even make it there. Instead, he feels hot metal touch one hand since he’s forgotten he’s still holding the iron. His whole body jolts to protect him from the burn and his sister is knocked away from him. After a moment’s pause, he grips the iron’s cable and pulls it to dislodge the plug. Setting the iron down carefully, he then examines his fingers, fortunately feeling no lasting pain.

“Make love?” she asks. He turns to her to find her blushing. “You wanted to do that?”

“I, I didn’t say I wanted to do it!” he tries.

A sly grin creeps over her features. “Then why’d you say it?”

“I, um, calling it sex, is v-vulgar, so, y’know…” he fumbles.

She sneaks up towards him and climbs in his lap. He doesn’t resist at all, despite his embarrassment, and she lays her arms on his shoulders. His eyes repeatedly twitch towards hers, then immediately away every time he sees the victory in them.

“I wouldn’t regret if we had sex either,” she says in a low voice. “And I definitely wouldn’t regret if we made love.”

She punctuates the first statement with a kiss on the cheek, the second with one on the lips. He swallows deeply, unsure how to proceed. He thought these feelings were buried under layers and layers of logic after years of shoveling reasoning. But then, he’d also thought he was going to work today.

“You know what making love means, right?” he asks, his voice hesitant as he holds her gaze.

“Sex, duh,” she sniggers, enjoying his frustration. A few seconds pass and her expression becomes warmer and less mocking, though there’s still some glinting in her eyes. “Yeah, I know what you really mean. Trust me, I know I wouldn’t regret it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you wouldn’t, just like you don’t actually regret making out last night.”

He frowns at her logic. “I’d regret it if you didn’t like it.”

“But I did, so you don’t. Same’s same here.”

“If we do this, there’s no going back. You su-”

“Dipper! Shut up and take off your shirt already or you’ll have to call in sick tomorrow too!”

He sputters at her impatience, his mind too flustered to properly act on her command. Thankfully, his body doesn’t need training to handle “sick days” like it does work days and it helps him just as well in preparing for the one as it did the other.


End file.
